Before the Pledge
by CalebKing
Summary: What came before their pledge, to either the sword or to the cause. Prologue chapters for Soul Pledge from both sides of the story.
1. Kaoru

**Prologue: Kaoru**

_Fast this Life of mine was dying,_

_Blind already and calm as death,_

_Snowflakes on her bosom lying_

_Scarcely heaving with her breath._

-

Kaoru was pretty certain this was what facing death felt like.

The worst part, however, hadn't been the pain – it had been the blood on her face that was not her own.

All the broken bones from training, all the scraps and cuts from sword wounds - nothing could compare to the pain of seeing her parents being killed before her very eyes. So it was easy to accept her own death coming now; she had little motivation left to fight for her life against the masked intruders.

A few of her father's apprentices lay across the floor as well, having run to their master's call. Unfortunately, their skill was nowhere near the master's, and he had fallen in minutes. Next had been, almost inevitably, their defeat, after which came her mother – for she had understood what had taken Kaoru precious minutes to comprehend – the attackers were here for _her_.

Kaoru had only heard murmured whispers about the abducted girls, but the new government had assured them that such threats were being dealt with, and would soon come to an end.

What they hadn't been prepared for was the foreign attack, forcing attention back to the old ways of fighting that held the advantage of a life force behind the weapon as well as the wielder. Looking for an edge in the war, they had used the last bonded ones who remained to defeat the enemy.

But the war had brought the truth about bonded weapons back to other quarters, to those not as concerned about willingness or training. And so black market selling of forced bondings had escalated in the past three years.

Kaoru's father had begun training her in earnest then, and she had still been too young to understand the implications of his earnestness.

So she had taken up the wooden sword dropped by her mother and tried to fight them off herself. By the time a strong voice called out, "Stop, you idiots!" she was bleeding profusely.

"We don't want her dead," came the rough voice, and Kaoru paled.

At this point, she would have preferred a quick end, rather than torture.

"I've heard you were trained, little girl," came a different, condescending voice. "Why don't you show us, eh? Cooperate, and we won't be forced to hurt you anymore."

She wanted to scream and lunge at his throat, but somehow, her father's words echoed powerfully in her head from one of the first lessons he had ever taught her, real enough to make her pause.

-

_"Kaoru, this is a special gift, do you understand? Your great-grandmother learned many years ago, and passed it down to me, in case of the direst emergency."_

_Kaoru stared up at him with wondering eyes. Her mother had told stories of how great-grandmother had fought in the previous war, and helped establish the Kamiya name._

_"This time, **our** time, may require such drastic measures," her father muttered, brows furred in deep worry. His gaze settled back on the young girl before him. "If you are ever in danger Kaoru, and I am not there to help you, or for that matter, anyone else, you must remember this – remember the feel of a sword, the sense that it is just like you – a beautiful weapon that is sharp and strong and lethal. I can only teach you so much, Kaoru, but if you ask, this steel that has protected our family for generations should lend you its protection as well."_

_-_

Looking past the masked figures covered in blood, she focused on her father's fallen form, finding his sword by the glint of moonlight off metal.

_Please, please. _

_I need help! _

_Please, Father told me not to die yet…_

**_I don't want to die!_**

Her fear was like a waterlogged coat, hanging on her shoulders and dragging her down just as much as her injuries were. Yet it also acted as a rush of adrenaline, keeping her standing when the blows to her body should have sent her down.

And then somehow, there was a voice echoing inside her mind, responding, showing her a vision she had never seen before, never imagined.

In awe and wonder, all fear forgotten, she grasped at the fire and warmth – the closest ideas she had to describe what was reaching out to her.

The pain was a surprise, and she would have cried out if she had still had a voice or a mouth to express it with.

Instead, the pain shifted into something different, shifted _her_, and then kept going, blazing through every bone, every last vein in her body, until she was no longer Kaoru, but the most intense and pure things that Kaoru had ever been.

New senses spread out, new perceptions, and she could suddenly _feel_ the shock and confusion of the men who had been threatening her.

Their lives were like candle flame in her 'sight,' and for a moment they were all still.

Then one that was slightly bigger than the others came towards her, and though she knew no fear, there was trepidation, for she did not want him to touch her.

When his sweaty hand grabbed hold of her, she cried out in distress, rejecting his spirit.

With a curse, he let go the blade.

The jarring sensation of hitting the floor cut off her mental yell, and Kaoru shuddered, wondering what would happen now.

Out of the corner of her vision, a flame was snuffed out.

Three more followed in quick succession, and then all the lights in her view were moving towards one small blue flame which had come through the roof.

Kaoru watched that flame move with elation; she longed for it to come closer, to try _its_ luck on holding her_._

Minutes later, only the blue flame remained, and Kaoru-who-was-the-blade hummed with expectation.

When his calloused hand finally took hold, she was unprepared for the _jerk _of changing, the feeling of her heart being torn from its moorings, like a tough cloth being torn in two.

Neither she nor the blade, for she registered that they were no longer one, had expected the parting.

Her suddenly human ears registered a loud gasp, and fumbling hands went around her back as she sagged to the floor.

And right before she fainted from blood-loss, she tilted her head to see wide violet eyes staring back.

-

_Love came by, and having known her_

_In a dream of fabled lands,_

_Gently stooped, and laid upon her_

_Mystic chrism of holy hands;_

-

_Drew his smile across her folded _

_Eyelids, as the swallow dips;_

_Breathed as finely as the cold did_

_Through the locking of her lips._

-

_So, when Life looked upward, being _

_Warmed and breathed on from above,_

_What sight could she have for seeing,_

_Evermore… but only for Love?_

_ - Elizabeth Barrett Browning_


	2. Kenshin

**Prologue: Kenshin**

Kenshin is seventeen when he finds himself wondering just what he has turned his life into, as screams ring out behind him.

The voices of his companions yell out numbers and directions over the chaos of falling men, and blood flowing across the ground. No one from the research facility is to be left alive – something Kenshin is increasingly uncomfortable with as they proceed through the buildings.

The pattern of their recent orders has become more and more unsettling to him. Their initial assignments had gone exactly as predicted, but lately the particulars have rarely lined up with the original parameters.

Case in point is this slaughter.

Simply stated to be an assassination of foreign scientists who have been conducting experiments on abducted girls, Kenshin is being forced to realize that the evidence of his eyes says differently.

None of the men he's encountered appear foreign, and nearly all are unarmed and unprepared for the swordsmen and petty thugs who have come to strike them down.

If they truly _have_ been preying upon helpless innocents, then Kenshin has no problem using the element of surprise. But suspicion is mounting – something is going on beneath their "simple orders" and Kenshin can't turn a blind eye to the discrepancy.

Ignoring the directions someone calls to him, he breaks off down a smaller hallway, intent upon finding the abducted girls – the proof that this mission isn't a complete lie.

What he finds instead, two flights below ground level, is a swordsman guarding a door, a sight so incongruous with the rest of the facility that he skids to a halt, eyes wide. Surprise morphs into suspicion as what he'd thought was the man's shadow moves from behind him to reveal a woman.

Her beauty is more reminiscent of one of the nobility's daughters, and the intricate kimono she she is wearing seems to support that association.

Kenshin stiffens as his mind leaps to figure out why someone like _that_ would be _here_ – a dank, dirty corridor in a questionable research facility.

"Turn back," the other man dares to warn him. "There's nothing for you here but death."

Kenshin's eyes gleam dangerously at the threat.

"I would think that an armed guard is indicative of something, not nothing," he returns, and despite the presence of the woman, draws his sword.

It should be easy enough to warn her back as they fight, and if the other man hasn't used her yet as a hostage, then Kenshin thinks he should be able to prevent it happening later.

"Tomoe, stand back," the other man instructs, and Kenshin is relieved that one matter is out of the way.

He notes the woman's assessing glance at the other man and then at Kenshin before she does as instructed, and then Kenshin's attention is focused almost wholly on his opponent.

Kenshin uses perhaps half his speed to strike as the other is withdrawing his sword, and the widened eyes as he barely manages to block Kenshin's swing draws the redhead's expression into a fierce snarl.

Surprise only lasts a moment, and then the other man is using his larger mass to push Kenshin back, swinging with committed strength. His moves are easy to read, for Kenshin has already thrown himself into the flow of battle, tracking every movement and every shift of weight to predict where his opponent is next going to move; what kind of attack he's going to use.

It isn't thinking so much as ingrained training, knowledge that has been pounded into him for almost as long as his memory can stretch.

Kenshin allows the other a few swings, one coming from below to test his balance and his defense, another turning with his motion to bear down on Kenshin's left flank.

Kenshin's trained too long and hard, though, to give way so easily even on his non-dominant side, and he parries the attack, switching quickly with a shuffling step into offense.

Their levels of skill are clearly uneven, and Kenshin's attack changes from analyzing to working out how to incapacitate the other quickly, without traumatizing their audience.

An opportunity to unarm him comes, and Kenshin moves in with deadly skill, the clatter of the other sword hitting the ground his reward moments later.

"Akira!"

The woman all but throws herself between them, stretching her arms out to block Kenshin's path to the other man.

For his part, Kenshin adjusts his perception of their relationship as he registers the cold fury in her eyes, taking an unconscious step back.

He can hardly attack them both while they're unarmed, and just the thought of turning a weapons against a woman turns his stomach.

It's a problem, and he curses under his breath.

"Akira."

There's a wealth of meaning behind her tone, and Kenshin's instincts flare up, though he can't place why.

'Akira' appears frustrated, but as the two stare at each other, silently communicating, his expression undergoes a change. Kenshin doesn't like the resolve that sharpens the other man's features, for whatever they are planning he can't predict.

"It may not be enough," Akira argues, his objection quiet.

"But it must be done," she returns more firmly, and as though the argument has been decided, she looks again at Kenshin, the assessing gaze from before now cold deliberation.

"As you wish," the man behind her finally agrees, and then Kenshin can't look away as the woman seems to fade and disappear, 'til Akira is left holding a new sword.

"_Monster_," Kenshin whispers, and feels justified using the slur when Akira charges him, and manages to force Kenshin's blade back.

It only takes a few exchanges to conclude that the man's skill has inexplicably improved, and his defense has become nearly unbreakable.

Kenshin raises his speed and the power he's exerting behind every swing, thrust and blow, but Akira's sword is there to block, deflect or return every attack. Kenshin can feel his mind approaching the edge, and wonders outside the immediacy of their fight if he'll have to cross it to win.

It's been a while since he last let go of his control like _that_; over a month since he'd had a run-in with the wolf in government clothing.

This fight is nothing like his clashes with the Wolf, but somehow, he is still being pressed closer and closer to his limits. In between one moment and the next, Kenshin spots his opportunity.

Though he's being pushed to exert himself much farther than is usual, it isn't because Akira's skills have increased. Rather, his ability to read Kenshin's movements have increased dramatically, and he's used that sudden change to throw Kenshin off-balance, forcing him to re-analyze his opponent's abilities while adjusting his own defense.

Akira's strength hasn't changed, though, and the drawn-out struggle finally starts to wear on him. Kenshin pushes back, the glimpse of victory driving him over the edge without thought. He presses his advantage now, using his agility and wide range of attacks to drive Akira back step by step, until the man is nearly stumbling under the blows of Kenshin's sword.

First one swing, then another manage to clip him, and dark stains appear at his shoulder and then at his side.

Akira falters, and yet his sword still comes up to defend him with unusual surety, keeping him from being totally incapacitated by another strike.

Through the fog of blood-lust, Kenshin can barely tune his senses to feel out how a weaker opponent can last so long against his loosed power.

It's almost as though a second mind or another pair of hands if guiding his sword, and the murmurs that have been drifting around Kenshin for almost a year suddenly come together in his mind.

"_Monster_!" he repeats viciously as it dawns on him, his next attack sweeping low before he dodges to the side, avoiding a downward slash.

Changing the course of his own attack, he manages a deep cut across Akira's thighs.

His victorious snarl is abruptly cut off as he glimpses a blade coming towards his neck at an impossible angle. Kenshin twists to avoid it, eyes wide and growing wider as steel bites into his cheek.

Then he's pulling away, left hand coming up to touch the blood already dripping down his chin. It hasn't cut too deeply because of his quick evasion, but Kenshin still wipes his hand off on his pant leg to rid himself of the liquid. Though debilitated, his opponent is still moving, almost as though the sword in his hand is the one in control now.

Their fight isn't over yet.

Knowing the other man will not be able to keep up with his speed now, Kenshin uses an overhead attack, forcing his killing intent at the man's sword, sensing that _this_ has become his true opponent. Akira's breath is choppy and his eyes appear to be losing focus, but still he manages to stand up under Kenshin's attack, his block coming up at the last possible moment, holding strong despite pain and exhaustion.

Truthfully, Kenshin can't ever remember engaging in a fight like this, where every second seems to call forth more and more of his usually caged aggression. Rather than feeling challenged by his opponent, however, Kenshin feels as though he's being tested by the aura flowing out from the _sword_.

If this is why they have attacked the facility, he thinks in a moment's rare clarity, then his doubts about his former choice has been put to rest, lack of other evidence notwithstanding.

How many women – how many _girls_ – are being used like this, to house demon spirits? Or perhaps they've been taken over and are simply shells for whatever these people have created.

Though Kenshin has not the faintest idea how one might try to save someone after they've been possessed, he _is _certain that he wants to defeat whoever dares to use a fellow human like this.

His conviction draws him back from beyond the edge, and he can finally sense properly that there _are_ separate auras attacking him. With each strike the one meeting his blade first is the stronger aura.

It's strange instinct, or perhaps chance that guides him to target his next swing at the sword, rather than the wielder, and he can feel from the impact that something is different. Akira grunts, the lines of stress on his face deepening.

Kensin knows he's finally found his target and spins into motion, snapping his blade up, across and then barraging them with greater and greater intensity.

He is going to win this fight, even if it entails fighting an entity he can't truly see.

It happens sooner than he expects, as he's sweeping up from the ground. The aura of the sword wavers, and when he inevitably connects, feels it crack like a window might upon being hit by a large rock. He's too caught up in moving forward to pause or think about what is going to happen when he breaks through that crack, so the sudden given and then ring of metal shattering under enormous pressure is an unpleasant shock to his ears.

But it's not the screech of metal, or it isn't, for it suddenly morphs into a shrill scream as the broken blade changes into the woman from before.

Kenshin tries to pull back the power from his swing, but still cuts through her and then into Akira's chest behind her. They fall to the ground together, like tall grass after being scythed.

"Tomoe!"

Despite his own injuries, Akira manages to prop himself up to take hold of her.

Kenshin is froze, paralyzed by what he's inadvertently done.

'Tomoe' coughs, and Kenshin slides to the ground as blood appears on her lower lilp.

"Tomoe."

There's a kind of resignation that Kenshin can't understand in the other man's voice, and suddenly it's too much.

Who, after all, would force a woman to do what this man has? Kenshin knows he had pulled his swing; perhaps she can be saved. But he _must_ kill this man. Akira doesn't look up at the sound of footsteps, not even when Kenshin's shadow falls over him, attention all for the woman in his arms.

And the only thing Kenshin can focus on is that he must finish his chosen task.

As he tightens his grip, preparing for one last blow, violet eyes snap open and he jerks backwards as Tomoe lurches up towards him, a small blade suddenly in her hand and violence in her eyes.

For a moment Kensin thinks she will manage what Akira could not, as the dagger heads towards his left eye.

But Hiko's training, honed to instinct in his body, gives him the speed to avoid death – but not a second injury.

It's smaller than the first slice, but just as painful as his already swollen cheek throbs in protest.

But even as he crouches in response to this new attack, he knows logically that this is the last attack either will manage.

"Tomoe, stop!" Akira begs, though it's too late; though little has bled through her clothing, her slowed breathing and shadowed eyes indicate that death approaches. The light in her eyes fades as he cups her cheek, and with a broken sob the other man gathers her close and covers her face.

Kenshin can only observe numbly, wondering how this has happened when his only intention had been to _save_ her.

He doesn't quite understand when Akira begins digging in his clothing, grimacing in pain as he moves his broken body.

"Why are you here?" Akira mutters between panting breaths

Kenshin blinks, confused by the question and by being addressed.

"Why did you come here?" Akira repeats, teeth gritted together.

Kenshin glares at him, for isn't it obvious, with the woman lying between them, dead because of their fight?

"You dare to put women in the path of violence. Anyone with honor would try to stop you," Kenshin answers, furious all over again.

The confusion that contorts Akira's face only increases Kenshin's fury, until Akira looks away, defeat in his posture.

"You think I would choose to do this to my own wife?" he whispers, and Kenshin flinches back.

It honestly hadn't occurred to him that there might be any other explanation but the obvious. But perhaps the obvious was as much his own lie as those he's been obeying.

"I had to save her after they did this," Akira informs him fiercely. "But there's no going back."

Kenshin turns disbelieving eyes on him.

"That's why _we're_ here – the only place in Japan left that has records of those first soul-bound blades. I had hoped… _we_ had hoped… but this is truly the end. Even a blade can't protect us from human illness, it seems."

Kenshin rubs his head, trying to fit all these sudden pieces together in a way that will make sense.

"If you're here to steal those records…" Akira pulls out a lighter, and for a moment Kenshin can't bring himself to believe what the man intends to do. "I'll make sure there's nothing left for you to learn!"

Instinct moves Kenshin across the gap to knock the open flame from the other man's hand, and he pats on the burning cloth with something like panic.

"Are you insane? Burning yourself alive will save no one!"

Akira slides back to the floor, woozy from lack of blood and this last defeat, anger no longer enough to keep him upright.

"Better that, than letting you people steal the techniques," he argues hoarsely, fighting to stay aware.

Kenshin shakes with frustration and barely restrained anguish.

"Fool," he shots back. "I have no intention of taking any information – for anyone!"

In truth, Kenshin knows that _he_ is the fool, for holding out false hope that his previous decisions had been the right ones. This night was certainly revealing every possible flaw in his reasoning, his pride and his arrogance. Worse, his self-directed disgust felt justified and there was nothing he could do to excuse himself from it.

He retrieves the lighter and flicks the flame to life.

"Are all the records behind that door?" he asks, voice cold.

Akira stares up at him, first at the flickering flame, and then at the wild glint of his enemy's eyes.

"Yes."

Kenshin turns without another word and pushes open the door that Akira had protected throughout their fight. Protecting innocents in his own way, Kenshin reflects, if only he'd bothered to question the incongruity a bit more.

The small flame reveals wooden shelves filled with scrolls and molding books. It's a surprising small room for the life-altering information it contains. Without hesitation, Kenshin lights scroll after scroll on fire, and then blows on those small flames until every shelf is burning.

He exits quickly as the smoke begins to accumulate, and slips the lighter into his pocket for safe keeping.

"Can you walk?" he asks brusquely, bending down beside Akira.

"Leave me here," the other man murmurs. "I'm just as ill as she was. It won't be much longer; I can feel it."

Kenshin glances at their clasped hands, and then away.

"We won't be apart long."

Despair washes over Kenshin, at what his actions have led to, and he looks away abruptly, gorge rising in his throat.

"I'm sorry," he repents in anguish, bending down before them both.

"If you truly are," Akira whispers. "Stop them."

And though he should know better than to make yet another vow he might not be able to keep, Kenshin still picks up a slender, cold hand, his first gentle contact with them.

"You have my word."

* * *

A/N: Unbeta-ed, so any mistakes you see you can alert me to and I'll try to get to them in a timely manner. This is the end of the prologue; any in-between information about how Kenshin got to Soul-Pledge will be seen (if at all) in flashbacks or


End file.
